Black Irony
by ChoCedric
Summary: This, he thought as he laughed maniacally, is black irony, at its best. He'd tried desperately to prevent his dearest friends' deaths, but had only succeeded in causing them. Sirius's reaction on Halloween 1981. Includes his hunt for Peter.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Black Irony

By: ChoCedric

Sirius Black felt a sense of dread as he hopped onto his motorbike to go and check on Peter. Ever since Lily, James, and Harry had gone into hiding, he'd spent each day worrying over their welfare, wondering if they were even still alive. They'd made Peter the secret keeper, so as to keep them even safer. Unfortunately, times were so bad in the wizarding world that friends were suspecting each other of treachery, and Sirius suspected that Remus was giving information over to Voldemort. It was obvious that someone in their tight-knit little group was betraying them, and Remus's activities were suspicious of late. He was away for extremely long periods of time, not telling anyone where he was going.

Sirius could feel the wind in his face as he revved up his motorcycle and rode it quickly to Peter's hideout. The feeling he got whenever he was on this beauty was one of absolute freedom, and he wished he could feel this good forever. All his worries left him as he concentrated on the motion of the bike and the feeling of joy swooping over him.

When he got to Peter's hideout, which was an old-fashioned looking little flat, he knocked on the door, waiting anxiously for Peter's response.

No answer.

Sirius knocked again, concern beginning to mount. Why wasn't his friend answering? His knocks were loud and agitated. "It's Sirius, let me in, Wormtail!" he called.

But still nothing.

Fear beginning to rise in him, Sirius tried to open the door, and found to his surprise that it was unlocked. What was Peter thinking? he thought angrily. Clumsy git, why would he leave his door unlocked?

As Sirius walked through the house, calling Peter's name frantically, his worry changed to panic. There was no sign of Peter, but there was also no sign of a struggle, so he wondered what on Earth was going on. A horrible suspicion began to niggle at him, but he chased it away. No, no, that's laughable, he told himself firmly. Peter can't be the traitor.

But he got the worst news of his life when he entered Peter's bedroom. The bed was neatly made, and one thing Peter Pettigrew simply did not do was make his bed. But that wasn't the thing that caused Sirius's heart to jump out of his chest and topple onto the floor.

There, written on Peter's wall in bright red letters, were the words:

TRICK OR TREAT!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, SIRIUS!

And underneath that was the sign of the Dark Mark.

Before Sirius knew what he was doing, he tore out of the house and jumped back onto his motorbike. My God, what've I done? he thought with a numb sense of horror. Peter was the spy, not Remus. Harmless little Peter, who Sirius would have never thought could betray anybody. Little Peter, who'd always been loyal to their group, hanging around them and imitating their every move. Little Peter, the traitor! Oh God, James, Lily, and Harry, they were probably all dead...'no, no, no, I have to get there in time, I have to save them! he thought desperately.

But as his motorbike touched down in Godric's Hollow, he knew he was too late. Smoke and rubble was all that was left of the Potters' home. He felt bile rising in his throat, and he jumped off the bike, leaving the motor running. He ran to the ruins, and saw a huge figure coming towards him, holding a bundle in his arms.

"Oh God," Sirius cried as he ran, shaking, over to the half-giant. "Hagrid, is that Harry? Oh God, he's gone, isn't he? He's dead, isn't he? And James and Lily, too! Oh, God!"

"Sirius," sniffled Hagrid, tears running down his face into his bushy beard. "What're yeh doin' here?"

"Just tell me they're all dead and get on with it!" Sirius roared, anger and desperation taking over him.

"I'm sorry, Sirius, but James an' Lily're gone," Hagrid said sadly. "Died fightin', protectin' Harry. But little Harry isn't dead, though. Yeh-Know-Who tried to kill 'im, but failed somehow. All he's got is a lightnin' scar, and Yeh-Know-Who's disappeared."

Sirius's mouth gaped open in shock. "Voldemort's gone?" he spluttered. "And Harry's alive?"

"He's alive, Sirius," Hagrid answered.

A sense of agonizing numbness had taken over Sirius's entire being at the confirmation of James and Lily's deaths, but the news that Harry was alive was something he could cling onto, a thread he could hold with both hands so fiercely that it couldn't break. "Give him to me, Hagrid," he said. "I'm his godfather. I'll look after him."

"Can' do tha' Sirius, I'm sorry," said Hagrid. "Dumbledore's orders. I'm ter take 'im ter 'is aunt an' uncle."

"PETUNIA?" Sirius screamed in rage. "No! You can't take him there! Listen, you-you don't understand! They hate magic! Lily-Lily told me all about that family!"

"I'm sorry," Hagrid repeated, "but it was Dumbledore's orders."

"Fine!" Sirius bellowed, suddenly feeling a corrosive hatred so huge towards Peter Pettigrew that he had to run, to escape, to do something about it. Once his friends had been avenged, he would sort out the mess with Harry. And of course, he thought with a sense of pure, bitter venom, Dumbledore thought he was the secret keeper, so he thought he'd betrayed them, betrayed the family he loved with all his heart. "Take my motorbike," Sirius added loudly. "It'll get you there faster."

Hagrid put an enormous hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Yeh sure, Sirius?" he asked gruffly.

"Yeah, just go!" Sirius shouted. His voice then growing soft, he said, "Can I ... can I just say goodbye to him?"

Hagrid nodded, and gently handed the bundle over to Sirius. Sirius kissed Harry's forehead where he could see the lightning-bolt scar, and whispered, "Don't worry, pup. Everything will be fine, and I'm sure I'll see you really soon. Hagrid'll take care of you, little one." With that, he handed Harry back to the half-giant.

Hagrid then got on the motorbike, cradling Harry in his arms. Sirius watched as his most beloved possession took off into the night, the last roar fading into the distance.

Sirius couldn't bring himself to leave the house yet. He just stood there, staring at the ruins, and he suddenly knew what he had to do. Hagrid had told him James and Lily were gone--but he wouldn't believe it, he wouldn't believe it until he'd seen for himself.

Sifting through the rubble, his hands starting to bleed from touching splinters of wood, he came across a fallen beam. Lifting it, he found a crumpled body underneath. "Oh God," Sirius whispered in horror as he unearthed the body of James Potter. His friend, his fun-loving, mischievous best friend who he'd spent so many years having laughs, sharing secrets, and experiencing wonderful memories with, had a terrified but determined look on his face. His hazel eyes were wide open, staring at the night sky, and he still held his wand in his hand as though he'd gone down fighting to the very last breath.

Sirius took James in his arms and cradled him close. "Oh Gods, Prongs, please wake up!" he screamed. "Prongs, please don't do this to me! It's all my fault! I've killed you, Prongs. I'm so sorry ... I'm so, so sorry ... I told you I'd keep you safe ... oh Gods, what've I done?" In a ferocious outburst of complete desperation, he raised his wand. "Enervate!" he roared.

Nothing happened; James's lifeless, hazel gaze continued to be fixed to the sky, and no matter how many times Sirius tried to arouse him, nothing worked. Finally, the man collapsed on top of James. A primal, animalistic scream erupted from him, and it rose into the night, a scream of a man who had just lost his entire soul. He screamed until his throat was raw, the grief and agony choking him. "NOOOOOOOOO! Prongs! NOOOOOOOO!"

After he'd yelled himself hoarse, he gently lowered James's body to the ground and kissed his forehead. "Love you, mate," he whispered. "I'll avenge you."

He knew that finding Lily was next, and he braced himself for another set of lifeless eyes.

And that's exactly what he saw a few minutes later. Lily, the wonderful, vibrant, full-of-life Lily, was lying on the floor, her beautiful green eyes holding a pleading expression. Sirius couldn't bear to look at her; it was as if her emerald eyes begged him to help, and he'd been able to do nothing. Pain engulfing his heart, he bent down over Lily and kissed her cold forehead as well. "I love you," he choked. "I love you and I'm so, so sorry."

He then decided to do one last thing for her: he picked her up and brought her to where James was lying, putting her gently beside him. Sirius maneuvered their hands so they were entwined, so they could be together in death as they had been in life.

With one last look, Sirius disapparated from the ruins of Godric's Hollow, a new drive and purpose filling his mind. Find Peter Pettigrew, and murder the bastard!

xxx

It was hours later when Sirius caught up with the little traitor. He'd changed into Padfoot and followed Peter's scent, and now he was in a busy London street. He could see Peter, the little asshole that he was, cowering, hurrying to get as far away from the wizarding world as possible. Upon changing back into a human, Sirius roared, "I'VE GOT YOU, PETTIGREW! DON'T THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Peter stopped, terror in his eyes as he looked at Sirius. "S-S-Sirius, w-w-what are you t-talking ..." he started.

"YOU KNOW BLOODY DAMNED WELL WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! JAMES AND LILY YOU ... YOU ... YOU COMPLETE ..." Sirius was so furious that he was at a loss for words.

"Ah," said Peter, a weird expression stealing across his face as he sidled closer to Sirius. "You won't get me this time." he whispered so softly that only Sirius could hear him. Sirius raised his wand, but Peter's sudden yell caught him off-guard. "LILY AND JAMES, SIRIUS! HOW COULD YOU?"

Peter's shout had been louder than Sirius's, believe it or not, and about a dozen Muggles stopped and stared at the spectacle that was taking place in front of them. "HOW DARE YOU!" Sirius roared. "HOW ..."

BANG!

The street suddenly exploded, and debris flew everywhere. Sirius fell backwards, choking on the dust. When he got to his feet, all he could see were Muggles' dead bodies, some bloodstained robes, and a finger. And a rat disappearing into the sewers.

Sirius gazed at the scene in profound shock for a moment, and then, suddenly, he started to laugh. But this was not the laugh of a sane man. This laugh was hollow, mirthless, one of complete madness, one of a demented soul. Thoughts swirled around in his head, with one being at the center. Harmless little Peter, inept little Peter, weak, cowardly little Peter Pettigrew had fooled everyone. Sirius heard cracks of apparition and knew that Aurors were coming for him. Sirius Black, the man who swore he'd never be like his family, was going to be sent to Azkaban, right where they deserved to be.

This, he thought as he continued to laugh, is black irony, at its best. He'd done everything in his power to try to prevent the deaths of his dearest friends, but had only succeeded in causing them. Black irony, black irony, black irony, he chanted to himself as his laughs grew more crazy by the second.

"Sirius Black, lower your wand or we aim to kill!" a deep voice boomed. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, and this caused Sirius to laugh even harder. Kingsley Shacklebolt was threatening him, Kingsley bloody Shacklebolt, who'd worked with him as an Auror, who'd had drinks in the pub with him, who'd become a great mate. More black irony. "I repeat, lower your wand this instant, Black!" Kingsley bellowed.

Sirius did as he was told, but he continued to stand there laughing. And he didn't stop until a stunner from Shacklebolt hit him straight in the chest.

As his entire world went dark, Sirius Black knew that his laughter would never be that of happiness again, but only that of bitter, black irony.


End file.
